Only A Candle To Guide The Monster
by quantumpenguins
Summary: We all know the story of Remus Lupin, from his Marauder years at Hogwarts to his final battle there. But what of his parents? It couldn't have been easy, raising a werewolf...
1. Hope

**Hey ! This is my first fanfiction, and I can tell you I did not expect it to be hp. However, I've been on a Remus binge recently, and couldn't find any stories about his parents I liked, or indeed any stories in which they are portrayed as I imagine them. (If you have written one you think I'll like, let me know!) Eventually, I decided to hell with it and started on this little ficcy. Hope you enjoy, or at least don't hate :)**

**Also, the title is an adaptation of the lyrics of "Monster" by Imagine Dragons, which I find to be the perfect Remus Lupin soundtrack. Go listen :)**

"So you're really off, aren't you?"

The girl chewed her lip uncertainly. "No Mam, I just fancied packin' my things up, buying a bloody ticket and standin' on the platform all day. You know, in order to pass the time, like."

"I just mean – it's just…" Elin Howell sighed as she stared into her daughter's eyes. "This is really happenin' innit? You're not goin' to change your mind. You're dead set on this."

Hope broke her mother's gaze. She knew she didn't deserve this. Her Mam knew just how to play her, how to make her feel guilty.

"I mean, it's goin' to be so… so _different_ without you _bach. _You know how hard it's goin' to be for me, around the house like. With Rhys and Tom up in the mines all day, and you _know _how your bloody sister is with housework. Would rather run around with that Italian lad all day! And all night, I shouldn't wonder-"

"Mam, _stop it." _Hope cut her mother off. She was so sick of it. "Look, I'm tired. I _have _to get out of the village! I've only spent my whole life 'ere. I won't be some bloody housewife, Mam, not whilst I have my education…"

"_Education?!" _Oh dear. _ "_May the Lord help me Hope, you may have done well in school but that does _not_ put you any higher in this world than any other Valley girl! And you could as well read and write like Shakespeare but that does _not_ mean that you can just… just _head off into the sunset, _girl! Why, when your father…"

Hope began to drift, her mother's ranting merely background noise. The girl picked at the hem of her favourite yellow dress. _This could really do with a good sew, _she mused. _It's all frayed…_

"…so I say _fine_ girl! Do as you bloody well please! After all, if you're so _desperate_ to leave your poor mother, a widow no less, to a broken house whilst you go off havin' parties and fancy meals in the big city, with your _fine_ education to pay for it all, then do as you bloody well please!" Elin threw her hands into the air and stormed off the platform, drawing the gaze of the rest of the platform. Namely, Jones the Butcher and his dog, Betts.

"_Diw, _someone's royally pissed off, e'nt they?" He muttered.

Hope nibbled some loose skin on her lower lip as she watched her mother go. She had no doubt in her mind that her family would be fine.

Well, maybe a little.

All she really did was clean occasionally. And it wasn't like the family was losing any income – only the boys worked. Her Mam was just waiting for little ol' Hope to find another mining lad to settle down with. Her mother had been somewhat disappointed in that aspect thus far - Hope was well into her twenties had had not yet found a boy she wanted to settle down with. She couldn't imagine sharing a bed with any of the numerous boys she had grown up with, and the others were all just so... _mundane_. She knew she had no right to be so picky, but her life had just seemed so unbelievably dull up to this point in her life - she needed something new, something exciting. Hope had always loved going to the pictures - the little cinema the next town over was nothing exciting, but the films were always beautiful. She always loved the romances, though - beautiful women swept of their feet by brave, endearing men. Her favourite had to be that one with that beautiful woman, Audrey something, being playing a princess travelling to Rome. She was tired of her sheltered life and went on an adventure into the city, getting lost and falling in love with a dashing American reporter...

Hope knew she couldn't stay in the village her whole life. She _had _to leave. Hope Howell was going to get to Cardiff, find a proper job, get paid. She was going to have friends, and a wage, and her own flat, maybe. She was going to work, but she was going to have _fun. _Not carry on losing the men in her life to _this_ gas explosion, or _that_ roof collapse. The Howells had come so close to that – her own brother had been working in the Lewis Merthyr Colliery during the explosion last year. Rhys had never been the same since he'd had to carry the charred remains of his best friend from the pit.

The train arrived, and Hope boarded.

* * *

A year later, and Hope was happy. She'd somehow been able to find work pretty easily after arriving in Cardiff – a little insurance office in Canton. Admittedly, she was only a typist, but had soon risen up the ranks to the boss's own secretary. The hours were long, and her fingers were always sore, but she was _working!_ And the pay wasn't bad either.

Hope was sharing a small terraced house with two other girls she had met – Alice and Pam. Initially the girls had not much cared for the Valley Girl, but time had seen the girls grow close, partly due to the shared sufferance under the landlord, Peters. Andrew Peters was a scrawny little man of fifty, never married or had children of his own. He was bitter, and sharp with the girls – he'd give them hell if their rent was a day late, and God forbid they leave a tea stain on the sofa. The presence of a common enemy had ensured that Hope now saw the sort, freckled red-head and clumsy piece of wire known as Pamela as nothing short of family.

Hope was never far from the sea, or from the woods, and the young woman could never decide which she liked better. She hadn't seen much of the sea growing up in the broad Welsh valleys, so she took every opportunity to steal away to the port to watch the comings and goings of the industry, or maybe sneak off to a quieter bit to simply let the water ebb and flow over her naked toes.

The woods were beautiful as well. Here in Leckwith Wood, the noise of the city seemed to simply disappear, or mute at any rate. She loved strolling off the pathways to find her own way, noting the various plants and flowers her father had taught her so long ago, but were lost to her memory.

But now it was a bright Sunday morning, and Hope was feeling crap. A long night of drinking had left the young woman with a blinder of a headache. All she wanted to do was curl up under her blankets and moan, but she knew she had to sober up, unless she fancied spending the day with two more severely hung over girls. And they had drank _far_ more than her.

Hope shuffled out of her room into the tiny wash closet. She splashed water onto her face, then some more. Eventually she sighed and resigned herself to a full-on cold shower. As the girl stood there, shivering under the icy trickle, memories from the night before started to jostle for space in her head. Whiskey. Wine. Various portsmen fighting for her to sit on their laps. One man stood out in her mind.

He had been huge, both in height and girth. He had smelled of fish, rum, shit and tobacco – not the familiar sent of the miners twist back home, but something stronger. Cigars.

He had been staring, leering at the girls most of the night. When none had shown interest, he had tried to forcibly sit Alice onto has knee, his massive hands raking her chest as the girl had struggled and yelled in surprise,

Some other sailor – a skinny black man, if Hope remembered rightly – had managed to fit in a nifty right hook and get the hulk of a man away from her friend, whilst two more men had roughly removed the guy from the pub. But not before he had got a hold of Hope's own arse and muttered a lustful "No 'olding out on me, slut. I'll 'ave you yet…" whilst being dragged away. The girls had taken that as their cue to leave, pulling a pale Hope reluctantly behind them...

Hope turned off the shower and proceeded to dry and dress herself. That man had terrified her, more he should have. His smile, his stench, his threat.

_He was just drunk. A drunk man who needed a good slap. Pull yourself _together_ girl. _

Hope took a breath. She needed a walk.

* * *

Forty minutes later saw Hope slowly making her way through the woods that she now knew so well, breathing in the heady, floral scent and feeling altogether more human. This was just what the doctor ordered, she thought to herself. Birdsong in her head and woodland air in her lungs.

Hearing a rustle a way off, Hope paused, a smile spreading across her face. She had seen plenty of squirrels in the woods over a year, not to mention some rabbits. This sounded bigger though - a badger, maybe?

Hope made her way, silently, to the bush._ If she could get a glance, maybe she could-_

All thoughts were silenced as air rushed from the girls lungs, a haunting scream finding itself thrown from her mouth.

**AN: according to canon, Remus's mum is indeed Welsh, and being a loveable _sheepshagger_ myself, I thought I'd make the most of it. I'm from Swansea myself, so most of my info about Rhondda and Cardiff is either from my Nana, my mum, or from that black hole known as the internet. If anyone finds any inconsistencies, please let me know!**

**PLEEEEAAASE review! **

**P.S The Lewis Merthyr Colliery disaster really happened - 9 miners were killed in a gas explosion in Trehafod, where a spark ignited unknown pockets of methane gas in the pit.**


	2. Lyall

**Hello again! Sorry to have kept you guys waiting. I could say I have been "bogged down with school work", but it's not so much that as I have the motivation of a fat sloth high on nutella. That, and the fact that this IS my first ficcy, and I want to get it right. This chapter was thrown together the day after I posted Ch.1, but in truth I've just been editing it more and more, never sure if it was "quite right". That said, I decided I needed to get on and post it, so here it is!**

**Also, you might notice another new character this chapter. He is known as Mr Line Break, and now that I've actually found him, I'm sure he will be invaluable. That is all.**

* * *

Lyall Lupin closed the door behind if, leaning back on it with a long, exhausted sigh. He closed his eyes. It had been a long day.

"Home at last," he muttered to no one in particular.

He surveyed his cramped, east London flat with an affection not yet afforded to the place. Lupin had only had the place eight months now, and what with the long hours spent in the ministry, not much had been done here besides sleeping and the odd cup of tea. Hell, even then, many a night had been spent asleep at his desk.

Lupin was not well suited to city life. A coastal boy he was – practically born in the sea. He longed for his large, open house on the front, the friendly atmosphere, the salt air and the garden – oh, the garden! His mother had always laboured over that thing…

And now, here he was, in a flat smaller than his dormitory back at Hogwarts. The cold, concrete balcony led into a small room, with a hard bed tucked into one corner, a writing desk in the other. A door to the left led to what might have passed as a wash closet, and that was it. Not even a fireplace to access the floo network on. No shelves on which to put his books. No windows, nothing.

Why the ministry had stuck him in this place, Lyall could only dream. He understood London accommodation was not cheap, even for Muggles, and he was glad to have been put up by his employers, but this was ridiculous. He had even tried to fathom why they would need him in London, and had stated his case that he was a perfectly adept apparator, thank you very much, and skipping a couple of cities twice a day wasn't going to kill him, but the Department said they needed him "on call".

On call without floo. Right.

After a while, the young man eventually drew on the courage to push away from the door frame and pull his greatcloack from his shoulders, wincing as he did so, to hang it on the small handle to his right. He then dared a look at the small clock resting upon the desk, and groaned. It was six o'clock in the morning.

That made it almost thirty hours he'd been awake now. _I need a pay rise,_ thought Lyall wistfully as he settled into his little bed and pulled the bedding over him, forgetting to undress or even remove his boots. His mind reset to the last time he'd been in his bed…

He'd been woken just gone midnight by a squad of irritated aurors at his door the previous night, who swiftly told him to dress himself and come with them as a matter of urgency, refusing to divulge any more information until he had complied, despite his many protests. His curiosity had been peaked, however, and so Lyall complied. Within twenty minutes he had found himself standing outside what appeared to be a very large, sprawling manor house, surrounded by large fields and woodland.

Lyall tried again. "Look, will one of you _please _tell me what is bloody well _going on?" _It had come out more viciously than he had intended, and the small gaggle of aurors looked slightly affronted, and maybe a bit embarrassed.

One wizard, maybe slightly older than the rest of the group, stepped forward. "Aetius MacTully, at your service." He spoke with a thick Geordie accent, and his heavy frame coupled with a long, thin scar down his left check suggested that this was not a man to be trifled with. His hair was thick and grey, what was left of it anyway. The hair from the very top of his head was long gone - in fact, it seemed to have found a now permanent residence in his bulging eyebrows, so thick one could wonder how he managed sight at all.

Lyall offered his hand in return. "Lyall Romulus Lu-"

"Yes, man, we kno' who you are! Why in Merlin's name would we call your out 'eah in the middle of the night if we didn't kno' 'o you were? Lyall Lupin, born '32, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, expertise in the field of Non-'uman Spirituous Apparitions? Recently assigned t' six months of fieldwork concerning Containment of Dark Creatures and Disruptions of Non-'uman origin? Correct?"

Startled, Lyall stood to attention, responding to the military air in which the other man had spoken.

"I- that is, to say-…um- Y-Yessir?" Lyall managed to stammer out. O'Groats had mentioned something to him about the possibility of fieldwork, to accompany his research, but Lupin had not, apparently, received confirmation of his placement. Until now, that is.

"Speak up, man! Stop stutterin' like some squib! You may be a Ravenclaw, but don' for one _second _presume that to allow you a lack of backbone. A sharp mind is nothin' without a sturdy one, I say."

"Sorry sir, yes sir." Lupin had recovered now, and was beginning to appraise the rest of his companions. There were three of them – a tall, lanky man, who had to be at least 7 foot, stood above the rest. He had a relaxed look to his thin face, with maybe the shadow of a grin, and a face almost concealed by freckles. Next to him was a shortish wizard who couldn't have been older than twenty, wearing a strange mix of nervousness and paranoia on his face, with maybe a hint of excitement. He was broad shouldered, stooped, and couldn't seem to keep his skittish eyes still. Closest to Lyall was a tiny girl, ebony-skinned with a long dark plait down her back. She had a stern, mistrustful look on her face, her lips hardened to a tight line.

MacTully grunted approvingly. "Meet your new team for the next six months – Abbott, Moody and Okoye. Abbott and Okoye 'eah have recently passed their auror trainin' programme with full marks, figuratively speakin', and young Moody here we got fresh out o' Hogwarts, some of the best instincts I've seen in a very long time. He's getting some work experience, if you will, with us before 'e and the other recruits enter the full programme – chance to weed out the weak ones early, see?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Sir, this is very educational and all, but what on _earth_ are we doing here?" Lupin ventured.

MacTully grinned. "See man? Toughening up already, I see. That said, no speakin' t' superior officers like that or else I'll have your hide, undastood?"

Lupin shook his head, and then quickly changed to shake it.

The older wizard continued. "Welcome t' Donnelly 'Ouse, a private boardin' school for rich Muggle kids. Seems 'ey got 'emselves a bi' of a poltergeist issue. Been there for ages, not doing much but rattlin' chains 'n' knockin' over lamps, usual "Haunted 'Ouse" crap. Recently though, it's been getting' a bi' more nasty like, nearly killed a kid with a piano earlier today, so we've finally got off our arses to get rid o' it." The auror was pacing across them all now, once again a military man. "We've 'ad the Obliviators and the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee in t' convince 'em there's some fire 'azard, so the 'ouse is deserted. You guys got a simple enough task – get rid o' tha' poltergeist. Banish it, convince it go 'n' haunt another school, kill it, 'ell _marry _the damn thing, I just want it out."

And with that, the auror had dramatically apparated away with a quick _crack!._

Thus had begun Lyall's first task out in the field.

The poltergeist had lead them on a wild goose chase around the school, even across the 150-odd acre grounds of sports fields and woodland. During this time, in between bouts of shielding, shouting, ducking and running, the team had got to know each other well – they had all attended Hogwarts, and Abbott was a Hufflepuff whilst the other two, Okoye and Moody were both Gryffindors.

"I haven't been seeing that many Bird-Brains since joining the programme, you know." noted the girl, Amy Okoye. "Most of them go into research, like you. Only a couple of aurors – that I know, anyway – from Ravenclaw."

"Oh really?" Enquired Lupin.

She and Lyall were taking a rest stop to catch their breath, and we making conversation in the school kitchens. The food had appeared to make the small girl lose her stern attitude, and she was smiling up at Lyall.

"Yeah. Most of us are Lions, a fair few Badgers and a scattering of Birds and Snakes. Don't know why the Slytherins even bother – why spend years training to defeat dark wizards when your just gonna become one anyway?" She grinned, biting into a sandwich she had rustled up.

"Wow, Gryffindor-Slytherin prejudice, even now? How long have you been out of Hogwarts?" Lupin smirked.

"Shaddup, you know I'm right. " She had quickly returned from that jovial, chatty attitude, to the girl with the tight lips and a set face.

He had let the matter drop.

The others were pretty good too. In between bursts of hexing and fleeing run-away pianos, the three men got to know each other. Abbotts's amiable banter and cheeky grin betrayed his incredible skill, and Moody (who preferred to just go by "Al") had a sure attitude and thick, steady voice, decorated with a slight Scottish accent. He was the paranoid one of the group: "Never risk somethin', when ya got th' chance t'be sure," he'd admonished.

By the time the job was done, the sun was rising a second time. They had only got rid of the damn thing by cornering the thing in some poor kid's bedroom and shoving it into a small glass bottle, charmed up by Lyall. Exhausted, the small band were nearly collapsed before it was sent away for the Ministry to deal with. An owl was sent off to MacTully, and a couple of weary goodbyes offered whilst each apparated away.

* * *

Lupin had barely been in bed ten minutes when there was a soft, yet insistent tapping at his door.

He lifted a single eyelid. The tapping continued, small but very, _very_ clear, and coming from the base of the door. Lyall groaned.

It was a goddamned _owl._

_What he wouldn't do for proper wizarding accommodation right now…_

"Not now…" Lupin mumbled, turning again.

The tapping continued, and as Lyall continued to ignore it, the infernal thing got more impatient, first tapping louder, then faster, now squawking bloody murder.

"Fine!" He yelled, swinging out from bed and planting his boots on the floor. The man stormed over to the door and opened it moodily. The little barn own sitting on the threshold looked at him quizzically, before swooping in o land on his desk. It stuck out one arrogant leg, a small roll of parchment tied to it, while it looked round disdainfully.

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm here, alright?" Lyall admonished, maybe being a little rougher than necessary with the untying of the note.

After the barn owl had swept regally out of the flat into the bleak dawn light (leaving a little present for his customer to clean up, of course), Lyall unrolled the parchment and read:

_Dearest Lyall,_

_Look, I know we've been nagging, but we still need your help. I've told you _umpteen_ times about this boggart young man, and I _know_ your busy but spare a thought for your dear old mother. We've been asking for weeks and you keep promising to visit but you never do. It's driving your father and me insane and you know our magic isn't what it used to be. _

_Look, just pop down today (I know you don't work on Sundays so don't you _dare_ try that one on me, young man) and we'll have a nice, warm breakfast on the table for you by nine, all right love?_

_Your poor Mother, Clara_

_P.S. Next time it's a Howler._

Lyall fought the urge to scream. His parents we perfectly capable of handling one stupid boggart.

"'Magic not what it used to be' my arse." He muttered. If his mother could send a Howler, she could cast a simple _Ridikulus_. Besides, he was not exactly up to an apparition all the way down to South Wales right now.

He jumped back under his covers, determined he was going to get in another three hours at least.

* * *

**A HUGE shout out to vainintrain, Mornen, and GreenieMerry, my first reviewers! I've never understood how excited authors get about reviews, but reading your thoughts made me want to just burst. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**


	3. An Unusual Greeting

"Pass us the jam, would you Lyall? There's a dear."

Lyall Lupin sighed as he nudged the spread over to his mother. To say he felt like crap would be an understatement of considerable proportions. He could only imagine what he looked like right now – dark hair sticking up at all angles, hollow circles beneath his eyes, unshaven and unwashed, save for the toothbrush he had reluctantly dragged across his teeth. Even then he'd only managed it due to the fact he could have sworn something had died in his mouth overnight. He was in the same robes that he'd fallen asleep in – the dark blue folds might have looked nice if not for the fact that they were now tattered, covered in mud, blood and his own sweat, and hanging off him like they didn't really want to be there.

His eyes wandered slowly over the kitchen around him – neat and cosy, perfectly so to make him seem all the more out of place. A grand stone hearth took up a large proportion of one wall, with a brass cauldron bubbling away cheerfully, whilst pots and pans of every shape imaginable (and then some) were slung from the wooden beams of the low ceiling at various heights, some so low you repeatedly found yourself walking into them. All around the walls sat various bunches of herbs and dried flowers, whilst live flowers spilt off the small windowsill and trailed onto the floor. Some pictures hung on the walls – the five of them on the beach in Cornwall, splashing happily in the surf; his mother and father proudly rising the Hufflepuff Quiddich cup above the rest of their team, Lyall standing next to his brother and sister outside the Hogwarts express.

He smiled fondly at that one. It was the beginning of Conall and Ylva's fifth year, whilst Lyall was only embarking upon his second year of magical education. Ylva was beaming happily, her chest held out firmly to display her bright new prefect badge, practically glowing yellow. Conall looked a little more sullen, though with his antics Lyall wondered why Conall had even entertained the thought of becoming one of Hufflepuff's prefects. His eyes slid from the twins to himself. Scrawny, shy, and awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his blue-lined robes.

His father poured him some nettle tea. "Come on lad, the way you downed the last of our Pepper-Up should have you bouncin' by now! I know you're right shattered - as you have a right to be - but it's all in the mind, see? Get some breakfast down ya lad; it'll make the world of difference."

Lyall started, blinked, and automatically reached for a piece of toast. He continued to listen distantly to his mother as he proceeded to spread the pumpkin jam over the bread.

"Oh, we're ever so proud of you love! Our son – an auror! Studying hinkypunks one moment, off fighting werewolves the next! See, Athaulf 'n I was wondering where on earth our herbology nack had got lost in you, turns out you never needed it! I mean, cultivating belladonna and fluxweed is good 'n all, but not for you it seems! Ah, must be so exciting to be…- deary, you can probably stop with the jam now."

Lyall was vaguely aware that his knife, still moving methodically to spread the orange paste over his toast, had long since torn through the bread and he was now applying it to the table. I raised his eyes uncertainly.

"Look boy, mebbe a nap could do you some good, eh?" Lyall's father encouraged. "You've had one hell of a couple of days."

"Ooh, just wait till the twins hear about this! Right jealous they'll be of their baby brother! Trainin' as a auror an-"

"I'm not an auror, Mum." Lyall managed to sigh. "I'm just working with a couple, getting some experience. It's not that…" The young man stifled a yawn. "It's no…"

"Tell you what, son, go sit in the garden a while, hey? Bit of fresh air is what you need." Clara said, matter-of-factly, shooting her husband a knowing look, to which he responded with a shrug.

Before Lyall could protest, he found his feet were already dragging him towards the back door, and into the garden.

No expense had been spared in the maintenance of the garden of the Lupins' retirement home. A small, shelled pathway wound through the small plot of land, visiting every patch and plot on a grand tour of the Lupins' pride and joy. A tall, walled garden surrounded the place, with creepers of every kind and colour running up and down it. Lyall scanned his eyes around for a while, momentarily caught by a small gnome scampering for cover. Mr and Mrs Athaulf Lupin were fiercely protective of their garden, and had a bit of a reputation amongst the local gnome population.

The young man wandered down through the greenery, smiling and gazing at each plot. First was the herb garden. It was filled – crowded - with dittany, parsley, monkshood, wormwood, basil, rosemary, coriander, nettles, asphodel, cannabis, thyme… the list went on. Each lay in little rows, enchanted differently for optimum growing conditions. Lyall had always gone to seek out the herb garden in his childhood home and just lie in it, being careful of the nettles, breathing in the smell. Lyall chuckled as he remembered his mother's outrage after he'd been caught nibbling on the cannabis leaves as a toddler, waddling round singing gaily to no-one in particular, and trying to convince her how _bright_ everything was…

Still smiling fondly, Lyall meandered down the plot. He passed the colourful vegetable patch, the bright flower patch, the chicken coop and even the small pond. To say the small garden was overcrowded would be cute.

The only thing missing from the Lupins' old household was the orchard which had, ironically, paid for this place. His parents had doted on those trees, growing hazel, sycamore, ash and birch, not to mention holly and ivy, growing such high quality wood that they could sell it for wands and brooms at quite impressive prices.

Lyall collapsed on the gnarled old bench on the pondside, dropping his head into his hands. He might not be so exhausted save for that unwise apparation this morning. He'd all but staggered into his father's skinny arms. The telling of his story of the previous day seemed to have guilted his mother a little, and she had apparently forgotten about the "boggart situation" altogether anyway.

Lyall knew he shouldn't begrudge his parents, really. And he hadn't even been avoiding them. He was just so overwhelmed with work. All he wanted to do was to observe and study the trickiest of the magical creatures – the apparitions. He wanted to write papers, observe behaviour, plough forward in establishing communication, maybe even lecture one day. He was the most happy when trailing through the wizarding quarters of the old universities in Oxford or Cambridge, spying out old books or conversing with the professors.

And so the ministry had sought him out to work for them. Forget study and research, oh no, Lyall's employers had him filing and leafing and interviewing and producing public awareness information and even _more_ filing…

And now, they had him running around chasing after damn poltergeists like a Muggle mole trapper. The whole thing was a joke.

By now, Lyall's legs had cramped up completely. Groaning, he lifted himself from the bench and began to take some tentative steps forward, wincing as he did so. His strides lead him to the very bottom of the garden, to the little door at the end.

Yet another sigh, and a shrug. _What the hell?_

As it turned out, the door led him down a small path, and eventually into a small woods. Lyall began to grin a little, as he soon became surrounded in the verdant trees and shrubs, silent and still, with wildflower in the air and birds on the wing. His legs even began to unwind. Now he stopped to contemplate it, it really was a lovely day.

The peace was, of course, then shattered by a scream. A loud one at that.

Lyall pinpointed the direction and veered off to the right, after only the slightest hesitation. He knew of course that limping directly _towards_ the scream was foolish indeed, but all the same he ploughed on through the shrubs and nettles towards the noise.

He stopped abruptly when he ran _into_ the scream. Literally, ran into a flowery yellow Muggle dress with a screaming girl seemingly inside it. It fell to the floor.

Lyall was about to lean over to check on her, when a sickening crunch came from behind him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he looked up. He saw the huge, twisted roots of a tree, thicker than a body and plunging in and out of pale, dry soil. As Lyall's gaze drifted up, he saw the roots clump together to form a vast, sick trunk easily the breadth of a house, before separating again high above him to form gnarled and ugly branches, reaching out to all sides, towering above Lupin and blocking out the sun to leave a vast black silhouette. Then, it started to move.

Lyall rolled as a branch came down to the ground with a sickening thud, landing where his head had just been. Lyall stared at it for a moment, gasping, before having to roll again as a second tree-fist came down. The whole form groaned as its trunk twisted around, stretching its limbs and bringing them down to the floor of the forest in furious thumps, one after the other. Lupin, trembling, finally got his feet beneath him and staggered to his feet before tripping on his robes and landing on the girl, who had long since stopped screaming and now held a look of total bewilderment. He saw her face for a fraction of a second beneath him, before clutching her and rolling both of them to the left as yet another branch hit the ground. This time, it was the young woman who helped to drag him up, and they both staggered for cover. Suddenly, a twisted wooden limb slammed down across their pathway, and the two wasted no time in switching to run in the opposite direction. Lyall's hands searched through his long, ripped robes for his wand, to no avail. All at once the small hand clutched in his was gone, and he saw the yellow dress flying from his vision far into the air, carried by a single gnarled limb.

The young man finally found his hand on his wand. Trembling, he took stance and pointed it towards the tree.

"Ri…Riddi- _Riddikulus_!" He cried.

There was a deafening _crack!_, and quite suddenly, no tree.

In its place stood a large and really quite comical toadstool, with a red top and goofy cream spots, looking for all the world like an illustration from a children's book, and appearing rather startled to be so.

Lyall let out a shudder somewhere between a sob and a giggle.

"_A wee boggart problem"_, he uttered.

And then Lyall remembered the dress, with the girl inside. He startled, and took off in the direction she had been flung.

She hadn't gone far. She was lying in a heap, scratched and bruised, but breathing labouredly. Lyall finally reached her bent over her to check for any broken bones.

"Hey…" she muttered, and started to sit up.

Lupin never got a chance to see the gir'ls face as he heard a soft giggle, followed a snort, before he saw white as a strong slap hit him squarely in the jaw. He barely had time to register the shock before the girl in the yellow dress fainted.

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**Hello there! So I'm back with another update. I hope you liked it, it has a wee bit more action than the others so far. Did any one you notice that little boggart-twist I pulled? That said, it wasn't mine - it's actually JKR's. I'm trying to keep this story totally cannon compliant, just with a little artistic license here and there.**

**Either way, please leave a review! Even just a little note to let me know that people are actually reading! (*sweats*)**

**'Till next time!**

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_*Quick update!* OK, so due to the amount of traffic coming to the first chapter compared to the significantly fewer views in later chapters, I've given Ch 1 a very quick once-over. It's less specific in term of places (to give me a wee bit more artistic licence) and hopefully a little less rushed. You don't need to go back and read it though - just thought I'd let you know!_


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